


Wait for Me

by intoxicatedcinnamon (orphan_account)



Category: Free!
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/intoxicatedcinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto is off for a school trip and they miss each other in all the ways they've learnt how</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first time writing smut even though I read lots of it ahhhhh. Please do comment and tell me what's good and how to rile you guys up better lols
> 
> Fanart for this fic and others I've written are currently residing at @attemptingtofan on insta, go say hi!!! (we follow back hehe) <3

He doesn’t think he’s spent this long away from Haru in his life.

As a midpoint trip break, the school has unexpectedly organised trips to the local sports museum and aquarium along with a hotpot dinner. It would be interesting, but Makoto can’t bring himself to concentrate on the paragraphs printed in tiny font on the information boards or admire the colourful fish because his mind is somewhere… on someone else. He finds himself wondering what Haru is doing every other hour, running their usual schedule through his mind and imagining what his boyfriend must be thinking in that instant. It was less distracting during their lectures and immersion program lectures but all this extra free time gives him so much more space to realise how much he actually needs Haru. Even now, on the bus back, chin in his hand watching headlights loom and speed in the opposite direction, his thoughts run in circles.

He has thought about calling home, sure, but he really doesn’t fancy his roommate listening in and staying up to talk is so impractical because Haru still has morning training and classes. Talking in the bathroom has even crossed his mind once, but it doesn’t really solve anything, to be honest. So Makoto has survived on texts for the last seven days, rereading conversations during breaks and occasionally suffering withdrawal symptoms without Haru around to kiss and cuddle and… satisfy him.

He honestly wonders how he managed to hold off wanking as long as he has but Makoto had nodded a bit too eagerly when his roommate politely informed him that he'd be sleeping over at his friend's. He's not going to be selfish and demand that Haru gets him off but he’ll call, and hopefully Haru will get the hint. The prospect of Haru gasping through the speakers and calling out for him is a delicious one and he tries to adjust himself discretely through his trousers and look less affected by the vibrations of the moving bus.

***

Makoto’s been gone for a week now and Haru misses his voice, the way he covers him with a hug when he comes home late, curling up together under the blankets after homework and stroking his hair till they fall asleep. Haru misses the sound of Makoto shuffling around early in the morning, making coffee and toasting bread to eat on the train to school.  Sometimes, he thinks of calling him because the bed is too big and cold for one person, and there are way too many pillows without Makoto, but he figures school trips must be demanding on time and energy and so decides to hold out on his own.

Tonight, he doesn’t just miss the calm warmth and safety of Makoto. He thinks about kissing him, interrupting and muffling the little whimpers that Makoto lets out. He thinks about Makoto’s tongue wrapped around his and the wet sounds their mouths make connecting and reconnecting, how swollen and red Makoto’s lips will be. He wants to taste his boyfriend down his neck and chest, slowly pull off his shirt and flip Makoto over make him groan _Ha…Haru-chan_ and jerkily grind himself into the mattress, rolling his hips. Makoto always tastes sweet and willing, his eyes trusting even when he’s throwing his head back and arching.

He doesn’t even bother looking for clothes after he comes out of the bath. Towelling dry, he looks for a picture of Makoto on his phone—the one he took the night after their relay at the prefecturals where Makoto was only clad in loose boxers, his hair messy from Haru running his hands through it and missing his usual smile, looking seriously into the camera instead for a change. As Haru lies back on the bed and starts to lightly palm himself, he drifts back to the memory of how smooth Makoto’s skin had felt, having shaved the night before and the hollows and raises of his muscles along his shoulders and arms. People had always called him the graceful one but Haru thinks Makoto has a fluidity of his own too, his long legs and arms never going out of sync, his back curved in a perfect arc as he pushes off… _Makoto_. He imagines his palms exploring the bumps of Makoto’s spine, and though it’s silly, mouths “I love you” to the air, to the Makoto in his mind. In his fantasy, Makoto has just gotten out of the bath too and he’s clean, smelling like mint and the cream that he rubs on his legs to prevent rashes after he shaves. 

As he starts to feel the building urge for _more, more_ , he spreads his legs a little more—his cheeks warming slightly at the lewdness of being _alone_ and in this position—and strokes gently down his inner thigh, imagining Makoto’s warm breath tickling his skin and his voice teasing _“Haru, do you want me?”_ Sweeping back up to tweak his nipples and slide his hand over his stomach, Haru finally gives in to himself, rolling over on his side to squeeze some lube into his hand and warm it up before easing his fist down his hard cock. A long whine is dragged out of his throat as he jolts up at the sudden relief. Slipping into the disconnection that comes with pleasure, he repeats Makoto’s name in gasps and pleas that he’d be mortified to let anyone else hear other than his lover. He imagines Makoto kissing the outline of his ribs, hands tangling in his hair and drifting down to his waist. Makoto always manages to look earnest and innocent even while lapping at his cock with tiny, little licks, always persuading Haru with his tongue to beg. Haru remembers Makoto’s cock twitching at his entrance, trying to hold himself back before making sure Haru was okay; he remembers himself pushing his hips forward because he couldn’t wait any longer, and the way Makoto had bucked and pushed all the way in while collapsing on Haru and kissing his neck, breathing hard and muttering dazedly “Good… Haru, so _good_ oh god… _Haru_ ”

The phone rings suddenly, forcing Haru to open his eyes. The picture of a familiar boy with wind-ruffled brown hair and green eyes and a smile with his head tilted to the right lights up the screen.

“H-hello?” He desperately tries to get his breathing under control but it’s coming out in jagged pants and a high pitched whimper tumbles unbidden from his tightening throat as his groin throbs.

“Haru-chan?” _Oh god._ At the sound of his name, Haru can’t help but let out a whine. He can't bear to bring himself back for chit chat or “How’s the trip” or whatever reason Makoto might have called for. “…Haru?” Makoto tries again, confused. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“… -koto… miss you, _ah_ …!” Haru’s sharp intake of breath is beautifully familiar, and his eyes widen. _Haru had been touching himself. While thinking of him._ Throwing aside any of his usual pleasantry, Makoto stammers out “W-wait, Haru, wait for me,” switching his phone between hands while shrugging off his backpack and hopping around trying to pull off his socks. “Wait, stop…!”

Haru’s voice cracks over the speaker, distracted and hesitant. “Mako… _ha_ … _ha_ … Makoto, what about your roommate?”

“He’s uh… he’s sleeping over at his friend’s room cos there’s a football match or something tonight.” Makoto replies while kicking his bag away, and he’s honestly never been more relieved.

“Oh,” Haru’s panting resumes and Makoto is eagerly stripping down to his boxers and flopping onto the bed to join in before Haru drops out of the mood. “Makoto… hurry up, _please._ ”  

"Haru… ‘m—Haru-chan, I’m here—want to touch you too, Haru… I was thinking about you all the way back to the hotel, actually" a breathy sigh slips out as he remembers what exactly had been occupying his mind—The image of his boyfriend emerging from the bath with a small blue towel around his hips that doesn’t hide the bulge between his legs or his long slim thighs, the soft indent of his waist that dips coyly, begging to be stroked and bruised by Makoto’s teeth, the slope of his back, his collarbones that stand out elegantly from the rest of him, reaching all the way to his shoulders. 

"I miss you so much Haru, you're so _-ah_ -so beautiful, you..." In the faraway shadows, Haru's breath hitches at the yearning in Makoto's voice—it's needy, but not in the blatant, unabashed way it had been the night before he flew off for his school trip. He seems shy, pleading, sounding as if he can't help himself. Makoto continues, “Your skin is so pale, Haru, and your thighs are always so smooth… ah, I want to kiss the inside that twitches when I rest my cheek against your cock…”

 Haru feels excitement—almost nervousness, building up in his stomach and cards his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to stray back down his chest. He wants to wait for Makoto and show him how much he missed him. "I thought about you too, Makoto... Mmhh... I just got out of the bath... I want you to hold me, to touch me everywhere." Haru’s drawn out whimper drifts through the speaker and Makoto gasps, his imagination running faster than he can think. "I want to turn you over on your side... kiss you and suck on your waist, Haru-chan... Your skin is so pretty… my fingers on your hip," he’s breathing hard at the thought of Haru laid out for him in the soft twilight, calling out to be caressed. “Are you still touching yourself?”

"No, ha—mmnn—I stopped… wanted to wait for you... tell me what to do" Haru takes in another stuttering breath, wondering how long he can stand the strain. "I belong to Makoto… Mako— … please… touch me any way you like.” His hands strain and tremble, gripping on the headboard now, waiting for Makoto’s instructions. Legs moving restlessly on the sheets damp with sweat, Haru’s hips jerk helplessly as another wave of need courses through him to throb in his groin.

Makoto doesn’t try to stifle the deep groan that comes out of him when he hears Haru submitting over the phone, his sentences ending in whimpers and high-pitched breaths. “Yes… Haru, one hand,” he pauses to swallow hastily and find his voice, “use one hand to rub your nipples. Don’t touch your cock. Suck on your fingers first, get them wet… Let me hear your mouth…” With his eyes closed, Haru brings his thumb and forefinger to his lips, sucking audibly and working out saliva to coat them with little slurps and muffled moans. Once they’re slippery, he drags them down his throat and takes hold of his nipple, rolling and twisting the sensitive skin. A sudden jolt of sensitivity courses through the nub, “Ah! Makoto… feels good… ah, Makoto, more… please, more…” Makoto has taken hold of his cock, just to relieve some of the pressure and clear his mind of the overwhelming need. His voice is husky when he responds. “Remember how I sucked on your nipples, Haru-chan? They were so red and hard and wet… I want to suck on them again, make them hurt the way you like so that you wince when you put on your clothes tomorrow…ah, Haru-chan.” Whimpering, Haru feels tears prickle at his eyelids. “Makoto… let me touch my cock, please, Mako, it hurts… I need you…”

“Tell me what you want, Haru, tell me what you miss about me.” Makoto ignores his cry and pleads, fingers drifting over his spread thighs. Desperation colours his words, and he wonders how much more intense and difficult it must be for Haru, who is obediently avoiding his cock.  He wants to know what Haru is thinking about, what’s working him up even more. “I want—I want Makoto to kiss me… want your tongue wet inside my mouth, mmh… Want you to lick inside and make me so wet, bite on my lips… ahh! Mako… my hips… my hips can’t stop moving, Mako… miss your cock, need you to rub it between my thighs all hot and slippery… Makoto,” he writhes and begs one more time, “Please, Mako, I want you so bad, I _can’t_ …”

Makoto allows his hips to buck and grits out, “I want to be inside you this time, please Haru…. inside… Play with yourself for me, tell me what you’re doing…”

“I’m-ah-cupping my ass and squeezing it…” he pauses and Makoto can hear the sound of lube being squeezed out and the knowledge that Haru is still using the bottle he had handled the night before he left makes everything so much more vivid. The sheets rustle and Haru’s small whimper of pain is unmistakable but the pretty, high-pitched moan that comes after tells him that Haru has hit his prostate. “Put two fingers in—Makoto, Mako...!" It comes out as a whine and gasp and Makoto groans, squeezing himself at the base to keep himself from giving in to the pleasure that comes from hearing how vulnerable Haru is for him.

"Ahh...! I'm so wet Haru... so much-" he interrupts himself with a broken moan, thumbing slowly over the head of his cock to draw out the pleasure. "There's so much precum it's...mm... It's leaking onto the sheets, Haru-chan" Makoto's hoarse voice trembles and he's barely in control over his own body anymore. All that he's aware of are Haru's groans and "Ma-Makoto…" accompanied by images of how flushed Haru must look, with his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. His slim, strong arms will wind around Makoto's waist and stroke his thigh while Makoto arches his back to press against his chest. Haru's skin is hot and damp, and Makoto's biting into his neck to bruise it and claim him, so that he'll blush in front of the swim team like he's done so many times before.

"Mako... I'm wet too, you make me _mmph_ so wet, oh shit… I’m on my knees now… rubbing against your pillow which smells…— _Mako_ " Haru whines and rolls his hips, imagining his boyfriend panting above him, head dipping down to kiss his forehead and hand wrapping around his cock. They leave off talking, just focusing on each other’s breathing and helpless, desperate noises through the phone.

Makoto can hear Haru coming undone, losing every last shred of his control and fighting to focus. He’s begging without even realising it, “Let me come, Mako… please… need to… _ahh_! Mm… Makoto, Makoto… wanna come…” His desperation is contagious and Makoto only manages to gasp out “Yes, _yes…. Haru…!_ ”

Every muscle in Haru's body tenses at Makoto's cries and he jolts upwards with a strangled shout of “ _Makoto!_ ”, his breaths coming out harsh and guttural as he shoots white onto the striped pillowcase.  Makoto follows suit a second later, “ _Haru-chan_ , Haru-cha- _fuck_ … Haru… Haru…”, thrusting into his own fist to come so hard he goes blank and the air is ringing in his ears from the intensity of holding his breath. Haru is panting so hard in his ear and the world is fuzzily black at the edges. Everything seems to slow down; he can’t hear anything else but Haru anymore—his whole being is filled with _Haru-chan, Haru_ and he feels like he’ll explode if he accidentally touches himself again with how _good_ it feels to finally get off with the person he loves.

"I'll have to change the sheets later" Haru pipes up resignedly, his rough huff of a laugh breaking the heavy, satisfied silence between them. "It’s actually really messy... and sticky."

Makoto lets out a tired laugh in return and rests his arm on his forehead, shutting his eyes and breathing deep to wind down from the intensity of his climax. "Don't say things like that Haru-chan, my brain can't survive another round." There's a fuzzy noise on the other end and Makoto knows that's Haru blowing his fringe out of his eyes because he's too lazy to move his arms. Same old Haru... He suddenly feels a wave of fondness douse the burning lust from before and he adds again in a quieter tone, “Haru… you belong to me okay? I’m not ever sharing you. Ever.”

"Yeah, only Makoto's..." Haru's sleepy but firm reply drifts back a second later. "I-I... don’t want anyone else to have you either.” And for a while, Makoto thinks he might try to coax that cute, honest side out of Haru a little more when he gets home.

“But I’m on top when you come back." 

 

 

 


End file.
